Second Chances
by Bespectacled
Summary: KlavierXEma - Ema's working late, and she gets a visitor - a visitor with an offer. Sorry, I kinda suck at summaries T for some of the stuff that crosses Ema's mind.


**Second Chances**

"Fräulein?"

Ema Skye was tired. She was more than tired. She was shattered beyond belief. Forms had to be filled in, evidence filed, and these attorneys didn't seem to really think that through. Present all you want, win the day, then go home and laugh it up with your teenaged assistant. That had been fine when she was said assistant, not so much when she had to put everything away. And she was fairly sure that they should really be replacing some things, such as Klavier's keys.

"Fräulein Detective?"

She was writing the wrong word again. Or maybe the wrong spelling. Actually, that wasn't a word at all. It didn't make any sense. She felt a little bit like she was going to cry.

"...Ema?"

That got her attention. She looked up. "Mr Gavin." She rubbed her eyes.

The prosecutor smiled slightly. "No banter, miss detective?"

English. That made a change. "I'm too tired for banter. And it isn't banter, it's you being...being..." Flirty, actually. That's what he was usually being. In a really irritating way. "...irritating." That'd do.

"Many women would pay to be irritated by me." He had pulled up a chair and sat across her desk, absent-mindedly glancing at her forms.

"Yes, well, it's not my fault the general population is made up of idiots, is it?"_ Besides, isn't being paid for something like that tantamount to prostitution? Oh, oh, that's clever, I should say that – no, no, it'll come out wrong, he'll think I want to pay him for sex._

Unbidden, an image flashed across her mind and she bit her lip, looking down at the forms. Her face was aflame.

Klavier had, in the meantime, taken a pen and corrected a couple of mistakes, and had begun to fill out a form.

Composing herself, she looked at him. "What are you doing? You can't do that, it's against protocol."

He met her eyes. "It'll be our secret, ja?"

Her insides squirmed and she hated herself for it. _It's fine. It's really fine. It's just lust, and that's perfectly normal, perfectly acceptable, it doesn't mean you act on it. And even if you did..._ Her mind went to that place again and she had to drop his gaze.

"Thank you." She said quietly, not having the energy to fight him. Besides, who was he going to tell?

They sat, in companionable quiet, both filling in the godforsaken forms.

"Remind me not to submit so much evidence next time, detective." Klavier shook his head.

"Apollo is worse than you." She replied absently. "I think he just picks up anything that looks useful." Then she looked up. "Wait. Why are you here, Mr Gavin?"

He smiled charmingly. "To fill in forms, of course."

She shook her head. "No. For a start, nobody would choose to do this. You didn't know I was doing this. But you knew I was here..." She trailed off, deep in thought. _Come on, detective, detect! ...I hate my job so much. _"You...saw that my scooter was still here?"

"I saw that the light was on." His smile grew wider and she inwardly cursed. "But, you are correct, I have another purpose."

_Oh God. Is he going to seduce me? I was just looking, I was window-shopping, that doesn't mean – I'm not wearing matching underwear. I'm wearing ugly underwear. Very ugly. Damn you, laundry day! What do I do? Do I turn him down? But he's my boss...how will I ever face him again?_

"Ema..." He reached across the desk and touched her hand. In her surprise she wasn't able to react, just stared at him, a rabbit in the headlights. When he spoke it was with a softness she had never heard before. "You are unhappy with your job."

She nodded, feeling a warmth emanating from him that was unlike anything she had ever felt previously. What was this? "But that's alright, lots of people do."

"Just because the general population are idiots..." He smiled kindly at her – _oh, no, is this pity? Pity seduction. Brilliant. The gorgeous rock star throws the miserable detective a bone. ...Stop it, brain, stop that right now. _"I want you to be happy, Ema." His thumb moved over the back of her hand and she felt her heartbeat quicken. One motion, one muscle's movement (maybe two? She'd never much cared for biology) was making her feel weak at the knees. "I want to help you."

"Help me?" She replied, in a bit of a daze. Some of said daze was almost certainly sleep deprivation. Another part was probably Snackoo deprivation. But the other part? That would be the surprisingly soft thumb that usually strummed a guitar or brought defence attorneys to their knees moving over the back of her hand. That would be the physical contact of a handsome man, something painfully lacking recently.

"Ja. I brought you a present." He smiled warmly, and removed his hand from hers. Ema felt a strange ache, feeling the lack of him. He was looking around for the bag he had when he came in – she'd missed that one. He was tall, she noted, muscular, broad of shoulder. Not as much as Edgeworth, or Wright, but he was certainly well-built. There was something about him, and it wasn't his confidence, not his rock-star swagger (and swagger he did), not even his prosecutor's wit. She couldn't quite work out what it was, but there was something there. Triumph graced his features, and he presented her with a wrapped item.

"Really? There's Gavinners wrapping paper?" She arched her eyebrows, taking the gift. She moved it over in her hands, frowning slightly.

"You won't open it?"

"Part of the fun is working out what it might be." She flashed him a grin – it'd been a long time since anyone had given her a present, and it was bringing out the youth in her. She ran her fingers along the edges, felt the weight of it, held it to her ear.

"You would perhaps prefer to conduct this in the forensics lab?" When she looked at him she expected a smirk, maybe, or a smug grin, but he seemed to just be...content. Maybe slightly amused, but in an affectionate way.

She flushed a little, and found herself relenting – _it's late, that's why I'm not sparring with him like I should._ She undid the wrapping, intending it to be careful as Lana had taught her – but that wasn't going to happen, and she ended up tearing the paper to get to the gift.

It was a book, entitled "Scientific Investigation: Study Guide". She frowned. "I don't understand."

"Come now, liebling, you are no fool." He reprimanded her gently. "You are unhappy where you are, and you fear you have missed your dream. But you haven't. You can try again."

She was silent for a moment, not sure how to respond to this. "...I...but I can't. How would I pay for the course? Where runs it? I don't have the time – "

"There is an evening course at Ivy University. To enrol as a mature student, they require a reference from your boss – yours will be glowing."

She looked up. "You can't lie to them."

"I won't be." He replied softly, taking her hands in his. "You can do this, Ema. I will help you, tutor you, and I will pay for your course."

Her jaw dropped; she couldn't speak. _I should refuse. I'll have my pride if I have nothing else. I won't let this happen. He'll never let me forget about it. _

"Ema? Please."

She opened and closed her mouth, before finally asking him the burning question. "Why?"

He squeezed her hands. "Because I hate to see you look so sad. When you use your science, you come alive, and you look so beautiful." He sighed. "You don't seem to understand." He leaned close to her. "Ema."

She wasn't used to him using her name, and she realised that he'd used it a lot this evening. That was odd. But then again, so was this entire situation. The man she clashed with on a regular basis, the one who drove her mad, who had lead to her near dependence on Snackoos, was offering her a lifeline. And telling her she was beautiful – well, that she was beautiful sometimes, which was better than none of the time. "Klavier..." she replied softly, liking the way his name formed on her lips, and liking the spark it elicited in his eyes even more. "...I can't accept this. It's too much."

"Please, I cannot see you so sad every day." He seemed genuinely upset by this, and she felt awful for refusing him.

She lowered her head. "It's a wonderful thing for you to do for me, an amazing gift, but...As much as I want to do this, I want to say yes...I have to do it alone." She met his eyes. "I have to raise the money myself. I have to enrol myself. You'll have to do the reference, though." She smiled, hoping he would return it.

He didn't. He let go of her hands, stood up, and ran his hands through his hair. "Liebling, I will never understand you, will I?" He wasn't angry, it was disappointment that tinged his voice. "I will never get it right..."

She stood up. "Klavier?" She walked over to him. "What do you mean?"

He looked at her, lost. "Everything I try. All the ways I try to speak to you. They fail. Because I don't understand you and I never will, even though..." He trailed off, dropping his hands to his sides and allowing his head to drop. He sighed.

It had been a weird evening. If anyone had told her that she would be comforting the prosecutor like this earlier that day, she would've Snackoo'd them within an inch of their life. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, standing close to him – it was an awkward gesture, but it felt right.

"Klavier..." His arms fit around her waist, and she found herself resting her head against his chest, dropping her hand to fit into the small of his back. It felt much more natural than her previous gesture. "You've offered me something wonderful, something amazing, something that shows that you do...you do understand me."

"But I should've known you would've wanted to do this alone..." His head was resting on hers now.

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't have asked." She looked up. "This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me."

He looked down at her. "Please. Let me help you. Maybe the money will be a loan?"

She bit her lip. "That's...that's better. What about your rate of interest?"

He looked at her blankly. "You and I will go to dinner once a week, and we work on your coursework?"

"I meant payment..."

"I know."

She rested her head against his chest again, enjoying the smell of him (old guitars, some classy aftershave, light perspiration and the overwhelming scent of manliness) and the feel of his chest against her skin.

He was taking advantage of the situation, gently stroking her waist, smoothing his hands against her. He rested his head on hers, smelling her hair – mostly chemicals, but some hint of strawberries and chocolate. And just a little bit of Snackoos.

She pulled herself out of the trance and his embrace. "It's late, and I haven't finished all of those forms...I need to get them finished before I can go home." She glanced outside. Dark and rainy. That looked like it was going to be a fun ride home.

"I'll help you." He replied simply.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

She took her seat, looking over the last of them – actually, just one was left, the lyrics to The Guitar's Serenade. She read it over, before smiling up at him. "You're really very talented."

She had expected his rock-star persona to take over, but he simply smiled. "Danke. Inspiration helps, though."

"Lamiroir's voice."

He smiled cryptically at her, not confirming or denying anything. "Her talent is great. The song would not be as good without her."

Ema nodded. She ticked the last few boxes, before beaming up at Klavier. "Now we just have to file them away." She stood, going to find some method of transportation.

"Leave it, Ema, it's late – you should be getting home."

"So should you." She challenged playfully. "It won't take long." Finding a trolley she began to pile the evidence into it. "Just a ten minute trip down the corridor and in the lift."

He stood to join her, picking up her bag. "Straight home afterwards, you have many application forms to fill in tomorrow."

She groaned, wheeling the trolley towards the door and giving the room a last look – completely clear, other than the very handsome prosecutor stood in the centre. "I'm sick of forms."

"I'll help you." He replied softly.

She smiled. "I know." As he reached the door, she turned the lights off – leaving them, just for a moment, in perfect darkness. She could feel him close beside her and tried to brush off the warm feelings spiralling within. "...why did you use my name this evening?"

They were in the corridor now. "What do you mean? It's your name..."

"You usually call me fräulein, or detective, or some combination of the two...but not my name."

"You prefer this?"

"I have no objection to you using my name." She smiled. "I just wondered why. What changed."

He was silent for a few moments, before they came to the lift and he selected the correct floor. He turned to her. "I intended to act as a friend. It made sense to address you as a friend." He smiled. "Not as a colleague."

She didn't quite believe his explanation – it didn't seem to be the full reason, anyway. Regardless, she let it go, making a mental note to keep an eye on this new familiarity (of course their previous embrace was filed under another section, and didn't really count towards this – after all, he had been upset, she had simply acted as anyone would). She nodded, though, touching his arm – she felt awkward doing it, but he clearly appreciated it as a gesture of affection. "Thank you."

The doors opened, and they wandered to the evidence room. Using her swipe-card, Ema shuddered slightly – this room still gave her the creeps, it kept reminding her of that case. Finding her locker, she touched it to open it, and she and Klavier began to add it to the locker.

"Are you alright, fräulein? You seem uneasy."

She turned to him. "This room holds a lot of memories. Not good ones." She turned back to the task at hand, clearly not intending to continue this line of conversation.

He opened his mouth to question her further, but decided against it – he had plenty of time to get to know Ema Skye, and he intended to be very thorough. The next time he'd bring up the subject, he decided, they would be sitting in his apartment, beside the fireplace, with a glass of some fine wine in hand (possibly a vintage Bordeaux...) – not a dingy evidence room.

"All done." She smiled. "Time to go home."

They walked in companionable silence, close enough to touch but not actually touching. As they reached the parking lot, Klavier touched her shoulder. "Take care, Ema. Shall I send you the application forms tomorrow?"

Ema looked up at him. "Maybe we could meet for lunch and you can help me fill them in? And pay?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Don't give me that, you're in charge of my salary."

He smiled. "I shall call you in the morning, fräulein detective." He glanced at her scooter. "Is this yours?"

She nodded. "I used to have a bike, but it didn't really feel very safe." She picked up her helmet. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr Gavin."

"Good evening, Miss Skye." He began to walk away.

"Wait, your bike isn't here?" She called after him.

He looked back "No, it is in my designated parking space, at the prosecutor's office."

She tipped her head. "That's on my way home. Would you like a lift?"

He surveyed the scooter with some trepidation.

"Oh, come on, you drive a motorcycle..." She patted the seat behind her. "Nothing to be scared of."

"I'm used to my motorcycle. I trust her." He reluctantly sat behind her, placing his arms around her waist.

She turned back. "Her?" She turned the key, and found herself more than a little amused that the prosecutor, usually so cool and controlled, was clearly nervous. "Does she have a name?"

"But of course." Klavier muttered into her back, apparently still uncomfortable on the scooter.

"And it is?"

He didn't respond, not enjoying his lack of control in the situation. The sensation itself wasn't unpleasant, and he was sure that Ema was at the very least a competent driver, but not being at the helm bothered him. He wasn't a good backseat driver, especially on unfamiliar transport.

Ema rolled her eyes, turning the corner and subsequently turning into the parking lot. She parked expertly, right beside Klavier's bike (causing him to make a strange, strangled noise, somewhere between a squeal and a gasp). "Are you going to formally introduce me to your bike or not?" She beamed as he got off the scooter and took his rightful place on the bike.

He flexed his fingertips, stroking his bike affectionately. "Her name is Zephyr."

She looked at the bike, shaking her head a little. "I expected a more...rockstar name."

He laughed. "I am not only a rockstar, miss detective. Until tomorrow." He picked up his helmet.

She nodded. "Until then. Thank you, Klavier...for everything."

He smiled enigmatically, before speeding off, leaving her alone again.

Although she didn't feel particularly alone.

_A/N: _Obviously I don't own any of the characters, our darling CapCom has that glory. Also if I had my way we'd see waaaaaay more Klema-y goodness :3

Aaaanyways. My geography isn't great - I'm fairly sure that the prosecutors' offices are in a completely seperate building quite far away, I think it was a point in 1-5? But I'm not sure ^^;;

Concrit is encouraged and valued!

Hope you enjoyed reading it; my first fanfic in about ...three years (Well. That's a bit scary.) Believe me, more Klema is forthcoming, I ship them like burning :3


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